


The Egg-Shaped Musical Support Circle for the Cisn't

by Random_ag



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gender Dysphoria, Johnny and Shawn are Supporting Friends, Musical References, Non-binary character, Thomas is greatly surprised by this, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, only lightly touched upon dont worry, theyre just. theyre just vibing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:00:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23055877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag
Summary: Someone at Heavenly Toys isn't doing so well.Good thing he's got some friends, and a lot of support.- - - - - - -litterally just all the trans and nb folks of jdstudios vibing on the floor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	The Egg-Shaped Musical Support Circle for the Cisn't

There was some kind of singing worm on the floor of Heavenly Toys. Which might have been a fairytale-like encounter if the worm hadn’t been gigantic, laying face down, and singing something very reminiscent of Numb by Linkin Park, though something about the instrumental seemed off.

Especially, it wasn’t what Johnny had expected to see that when he had left the orchestra room.

“Hello?” he called, worriedly.

The worm replied with a muffled, half broken voice: “Hi, Johnny.”

The organist shifted from foot to foot. He thought he knew how to deal with Kim when he was in shambles, but this… This was new. He was unprepared.

“Uhm… Watcha doing?”

“Unbottling.”

“And you’ve unbottled… ?”

The toy maker rolled over, cheeks glossy with tears.

“Sad.” he answered.

Johnny shrunk in his own shoulders. He felt guilty, mortified, even, for not knowing how to handle this. Yes, it was true, Shawn and the organist loved to tease Kim, anger him, annoy him, but still they cared for him as hard as they could. This kind of misery was different from the one a friend could inflict - and he had no idea how to mitigate it.

“Do you… Do you need help?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“I just wanna be sad right now.”

After a couple seconds, Kim felt the music from his phone shift a bit above his head, as well as something laying next to him.

“What are you doing?” he sighed.

“Chilling.” Johnny replied, looking at the ceiling, hands folded on his chest.

And no answer came.

So they just waited a while in silence, Linkin Park yelling on a loop next to them on Kim’s phone.

“Uh… Whatcha doin’?”

Shawn’s head came into view.

“Sad hours.” Kim croaked in response.

The Irishman turned to Johnny.

“Emotional support.” the musician replied.

“… Can I join?”

The other toy maker shrugged. Shawn laid on his left side, crossing his legs. He shifted his head a little to ear the song better.

“Is that an 80′s remix?”

“Hm-hm.”

“Huh. Sounds nice. You got other songs or…?”

“Mama.”

“By Chemical Romance?”

“Yes.”

Shawn clicked his tongue: “Ah.”

It took a long, long, long time for big stomps to reach them and for vermillion eyes to squint greatly annoyed at the trio laying aimlessly on the floor, arms on their chests and lazy eyes to the ceiling.

“What in the _hell_ are you doing.” Thomas grumbled

Johnny and Shawn turned their heads to each other, ignoring the body between them: “Dysphoria?” they asked in unison.

Kim nodded: “Dysphoria.”

“What, all three?”

“No, no, it’s just him.” the organist specified. The toy maker added quickly: “We’re jus’ here fer support.”

“You mean. Like friends.”

“Yeah.”

“Like you are _actually_ friends.”

“Of course?”

“I thought that was a fun way t’ say he hated your guts.”

If eyes could talk, the Irishman’s would have yelled out so loud in their ancient native language they would have shaken the building down to its god damned core hard enough to make the walls fall off the infrastructure that held them up.

“WOW, _Thomas_.” he finally snarled. “Way to hurt somebody’s _feelings._ ”

“Not _my_ fault you gave that idea.”

They lightly touched the organist’s leg: “Scoot over.”

“Wha- There’s a whole lot of space just opposite me!”

“I need to get there first.”

“And you need to _kick_ me to get there?”

“That was _not_ a kick.”

“Sure felt like one to me!”

The mechanic rose their left leg to deliver an actual kick, but Johnny was quick to understand and give them space.

Kim raised his hand for a high five: “You too?”

“Little bit.” Thomas admitted and slapped his own gargantuan snowy palm onto the darker one that was offered to him.

“Hell yeah babey!”

And so four they were.

Three of them kind of thought listening to MCR while nearing their 30s might have been a little awkwardly anachronistic, but didn’t voice their opinion.

One was even finding enough peace to be starting to doze off despite Gerard Way’s furious wails blasting directly into his ears, had an elderly voice not startled him awake by declaiming a curse for nearly tripping on a descreet amount of human legs.

Bertrum Piedmont gazed in disbelief at the bizzarre ensemble carelessly slapped on the toy workshop’s floor, red in the face and already about to angrily demand an explanation from under his well tended mustache. His speechless confusion was however only increased when he caught glimpse of Grant Cohen, whom he was bringing to the upper levels so both of them could discuss the budget for the rollercoasters with mr. Drew, immediately crouching and laying by Connor’s side as if understanding a secret message.

Kim extended his hand to him as well; Grant didn’t make him wait for long and high fived the younger man almost instantly, gaining from the other a soft cry of what should have been enthusiasm, though it sounded more like he was three minutes away from crying.

“What in my the name of my gradfather’s poor soul is happening in here?!” the elderly master of rides finally quetioned at the bodies littering the floor.

Thomas shrugged: “Grosso started it.”

“He’s unbottling.” the moral support quickly explained.

“Unbottling what?”

“Is it sad, Kim?”

“It is, Mr. Cohen.”

“He’s being sad, Mr. Piedmont.”

“I heard him. Now please get up from the floor, Mr. Cohen, or we’ll be late.”

“You should try this, honestly.”

“And why is that?”

“It’s relaxing.”

“I see you’re not taking the strife of getting up again with my back into account.”

“We could lessen the problem by helping you ourselves.”

“Are you sure?”

“Thomas, would it be…?”

“I can do that.”

“Thank you.”

After a short amount of huffs, puffs and eh-s, Bertrum had joined the slightly egg-shaped circle.

“Should we change the music?”

“Don’t worry about that. It’s not that bad.”

He seemed to mean it.

Joey blinked thrice to finally snap out of his storyboarding spree feeling terribly dehydrated and very certain he had missed something. As he slapped a water bottle in his mouth (which then resulted in him sputtering all over the floor) he noticed Henry was not there. Weird. He’d usually wait for him to finish.

Wiping his mouth with a hand, his eyes looked up to the clock: ah, yes, Grant and Bertie were supposed to meet him forty minutes ago. Did he really manage to get all of that done in due time? Well, wasn’t he fast!

Hold on, was ‘ago’ used for the past or the future?

He stumbled out of the room and across the art department.

According to the rest of the animators, neither the accountant nor the theme park tycoon had reached the first floor; similarly, as Sammy quickly answered him so he could get back to grumble about Susie not having brought Johnny back in what felt like hours, they hadn’t gotten into the music department either. It appeared however that Henry had passed both floors and headed even deeper down the Studio.

So he made his way down to Heavenly Toys as well.

His crutches stopped at his friend’s feet.

“Uh.” he started, getting the attention of Kim, Shawn, Johnny, Thomas, Grant, Bertrum, Wally, Susie and Henry, but not Jack Campbell’s, as he was singing restlessly between their heads. “Am I… Am I interrupting something?”

His fellow animator smiled: “It’s the not-cisgender egg.” he explained while not elaborating at all.

“With friends!” Kim added as he bonelessly slapped his arms on the outcasts beside him. Susie nudged her head to the blond head across from her: “And special guest Wally.”

“Hello, Mr. Drew.” the janitor waved.

“Uhm. How long have you been here?”

“I came over about… Five Absentee-s ago?”

“Twelve.” the singer corrected.

“What?”

“The song played twelve times.”

“So it’s not super long?”

“It should be about two or three minutes long.”

“You sure?”

Joey looked back to Henry as Susie and Wally argued peacefully. Bertrum had opted (unconsciously) for a little nap while Tom and Grant talked in hushed voices. Despite the occasional sniffling, the toy maker seemed content.

The head of Joey Drew Studios squeezed himself next to his friend.

“So nothing’s gonna get done today.”

“That a problem for you?”

“Oh no. Not at all.”


End file.
